


Now I Sink Into You

by xDinahQueenx



Category: Psych
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:32:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xDinahQueenx/pseuds/xDinahQueenx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn knew that <em>Blitz</em> was a club with male strippers, but really, he didn't expect <em>this</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now I Sink Into You

**Author's Note:**

> It's all the Psychout's fault, for having Lassie have such enticing hip wiggles. "Swinging that butt like place your ad here" is a line from a song [Everlast's "Ends"], I just liked the line okay, and it evokes the image a very sexy type of walk to me so I used it. Title is from "Dancing Adairs" by Conrad Aiken.

"I don't know how you do it, Shawn," Gus said as they headed out of the Psych office on a somewhat warm, fall day, "You take these women on one date, then never call them, and yet they call you and invite you to their birthday parties." Gus sounded annoyed as he unlocked the door to the Echo. Shawn smiled crookedly and leaned against the handlebars of his Commando. 

"Dude, Kim and I have been talking as friends for at least three months," Shawn protested, "She invited me out. It's her birthday, Gus, what am I supposed to say no?" Gus rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. 

"So where are you and Kim going? Is it on another date?" His brows rose and Shawn shook his head. 

"No, it's not a date. Other friends of hers are coming to. We're just gonna have a few drinks. And I'll be home in time to watch Adult Swim." 

"Where're you going?" Gus asked, leaning in, "And are any of her other friends single?" 

"I would imagine so," Shawn said, he dug his hand in to his pocket for the invitation. "Blitz, on Castillo." Shawn read aloud.

"You want to come, buddy?" Shawn invited. The invitation didn't say he could bring a friend, but he was sure they could squeeze in one more person. 

"No, Shawn, I don't want to go," Gus said, "Blitz is a club with male strippers, Shawn. Guys will be taking their clothes off, and you have to pay for it." Shawn raised both hands. 

"Settle down, Gus, you don't have to come." Gus eyed him suspiciously. 

"You're still going?" Gus asked and Shawn shrugged. 

"It's her birthday, Gus, besides, it might be fun." 

"For you. Have a good night, I'll see you in the morning." Gus climbed in the car and drove away and Shawn looked down at his bike. 

"Looks like it's you and me, buddy," He said to it. He threw his leg over the bike and headed off towards the club on the directions.

* * *

Shawn met up with Kim and her friends in front of _Blitz_ , which was a squat building with neon lights and a bouncer. He was big and burly and let Kim and the rest in without much hassle. She greeted him by name and Shawn stopped and made small talk with him about motorcycles, having noticed his riding boots, and the edges of a tattoo. Kim pulled him along into the interior of the club. It was surprisingly clean. The tables were dark based with glass tops and a ton of couches and comfortable chairs.

There was also a stage and poles and some dancers up there already. One of the women with them whistled with her fingers between her lips, but Shawn wasn't quite interested in the men up there. They were young looking, skinny and soft, with artfully messy hair and brightly colored g-strings. They also appeared to be hairless (waxed) and slicked up with oil or sweat under the hot lights. 

"They do an amateur night sometimes, Shawn," Kim said in his ear, volume loud over the pounding music, "We should come and you should dance." Shawn laughed, but Kim seemed serious, and he shook his head at her. Judging from the men on the stage, he wasn't the type of person that the ladies came to see. They got a round of drinks, found a seat at a low, plush couch, and watched the stage. 

Kim's friend Brittany was closest to Shawn, and he tried to cheer her up, since the make-up didn't do it's job of hiding her puffy, red, weepy eyes. Nor did it help that she kept checking her phone as if waiting for someone to call, or text. After the third round of shots, she spilled about how her and her boyfriend had fought, how she had said it was over, and how she just knew he'd call and try to make up. Shawn assured her he was probably just giving her some time to cool down and that she should relax and enjoy the party. 

And by the fifth round, she was taking his advice and enjoying herself. Michael told him all about his new boat and Shawn bullshitted his way through a conversation about fishing, using things he'd picked up from his father, and once when he'd worked on that case with the shark. Then Devon, Michael, and Shawn all got in to a discussion about football, while Kim and Brittany ordered another round. Shawn drank up. 

Brittany seemed to enjoy the dancers, along with Kim and Devon. Michael cornered Shawn on his way back from the bathroom to tell him exactly what type of guy he liked. And it _seemed_ like Shawn had fit that bill. Shawn didn't do- didn't often do- sex in public places, so he let Michael kiss him and there was some petting. They'd made their way back to the group though, where shots seven and eight were lined up for the two of them. 

He was drunk enough that when the beats of the next song came on, he cheered along with a group of middle-aged women who were on the couch next to him. The stage was slightly dark and over the beat of the music he was sure he heard tap shoes. It reminded him of Gus which was not a great thought in a male strip club. He had sort of wished Gus had come along, it would give him an excuse to not have Michael's tongue in his mouth again. 

The dancer on stage now was tall and he looked like something out of a pulp movie, a fedora shadowing his eyes, and in a very nice black suit- pin striped, crisp button up, very neat tie. He was by himself on the stage, so apparently he was a big deal. Not that Shawn would know, his knowledge of exotic dancers was fairly limited to one named Trixi that he'd dated for a week while he'd visited Gus during spring break. Gus had been in college, but Shawn was just wandering. Trixi had been very nice. And very flexible. The man on stage was sort of pale, looked paler in the bright lights, and his fingers were wrapped around the pole, though he wasn't moving much. 

Just a sort of hypnotizing hip wiggled that Shawn couldn't stop staring at. It was enticing, and he swung around and did the same move, but this time, with his backside facing the crowd. There was a whistle and some hollers from somewhere else in the club and Shawn found himself rapt. The dancer turned back around, put both hands on the pole, hooked a leg around and spun. 

Shawn watched as he slid down, winding up on his knees, and Shawn bit his lip. Michael was sitting too close and Shawn wanted to lean forward and show his interest. Down on his knees, the dancer wiggled again and let go of the pole, the cloth on his pants stretched as he sort of did the splits, knees spreading apart. He raised his arm and slid his finger over the brim of his hat, white teeth flashing as he bit his lower lip. Shawn leaned forward in response. 

He exhaled slowly, waiting, as the man slowly took the hat off. He tossed it to the side and it skidded across the stage. Shawn was too busy watching his hips to notice his face. The dancer rose, slow and languid, hand back on the pole. Shawn followed him up. 

"You like that, huh?" Michael asked, lips close to his ear. Shawn nodded as the dancer started to unbutton his suit jacket. There was something oddly familiar about the way his hands moved. Shawn got distracted by the way he turned again, and the cloth slipped down his shoulders. The shirt fit tightly, clinging to his back, probably from sweat, but it was a good look. 

Shawn opened his mouth to respond when the dancer turned around, tap dancing again, and undoing his tie- which was actually pretty coordinated. The tie was blue, striped with black and thinner white. He drew it off and tugged down, letting it slide down his chest, then back up, over his lips. Shawn swallowed roughly and his fingers curled against his thighs and watched as the man tossed the tie away. He did a spin move, scooped up the hat, and placed it back on his head. His hands moved up to his buttons. 

Shawn watched as the man revealed his chest, which was trimmed but not waxed. Curly dark hair and in the bright lights, he could see the color of his skin better, pale, almost rose pink colored nipples, well defined pecs and a flat stomach. If that guy hadn't been a stripper, Shawn thought he might have been in love. The shirt was satin, the way it shimmered in the light gave it away. He let it hang from his shoulders, not quite taking it off as he went for his belt. 

Under the bright lights, Shawn noticed the sparkle of something on his skin. A dusting of silver, or paler than that, almost like diamonds. It was some sort of glitter, expensive enough to cling even though he was sweating, the sheen of it highlighting the cut of his body even more. Shawn completely approved of that. 

Shawn had heard the song before and he was sort of disappointed, on the second verse already, and he really didn't want it to end. Shawn was more disappointed when the dancer pivoted and moved to the other side of the stage, to a mixed group of loudly cheering males and females. It did give Shawn a rather nice view of his backside though. 

Kim ordered another round of shots and Devon discussed trying to get the dancer back towards them, which Shawn definitely approved of, so he and Devon tried to cheer louder. The others got in on it as well, even Michael, though he hadn't seemed pleased that Shawn had liked the dancer so much. His shirt had slipped down, revealing some of his shoulders and back, he had good posture. 

Something in their cheering must have caught the dancer's ear, over the thrum of music, and the other crowd noises, because he turned, and even though his hat was still on... canted forward to obscure the man's features, Shawn had the strangest feeling he was being looked at directly. He chalked it up to the alcohol consumption. He danced over, back to the hip wiggle, another spin on the pole, and he crawled towards Shawn and his group, slipping his belt off on the way. The dancer rose up on his knees and dropped his hands to his fly. Shawn's eyes followed. 

Shawn swallowed as the man popped the button, then drew down the zipper like it was a private show, just for Shawn. There was a flash of color, which made Shawn think he was slightly flirtatious, but still... he had no idea. The man rose again from his knees, all the way up. He tipped his hat in their direction and Shawn slammed his drink down, suddenly, his throat was feeling very dry. 

The dancer was back at the pole, one hand gripping, knee hooked around, and he bent backwards. His shirt fell off one shoulder, though it was stopped by the fact that the dancer was holding on to his hat. He dragged himself slowly back up, reached down, and yanked. There was a sound of ripping and the pants came off. 

Shawn was pretty sure he cheered louder than anyone. The g-string was bright red and it contrasted his pale skin nicely. Shawn noticed he had nice skin. Smooth, there were some marks, scars or tattoos that were covered with make-up. The makeup was expertly smoothed, but the shade was a touch too dark. It made Shawn want to wash him and see what was being hidden. Michael was leaning close, breath ghosting over Shawn's ear. 

The dancer still had his hat on, and he'd picked his tie back up and put it back around his neck. He'd turned back around, hips moving in that seductive way as he turned to walk to the other side of the stage again... _swinging that butt like place your ad here_. 

He didn't stay long though, he headed down the steps off the stage, and Shawn watched as he leaned close to group of men and women, them tucking bills into his waistband. He moved on quickly though and went to another group, a table with a lone woman, who knocked her drink over in nervousness, and he saw the dancer hesitate, like maybe he was going to help. 

A waitress came and took care of it, and the dancer kept moving, even more shadowed now out of the view of the bright lights. He walked over to their couch and put his hand up on his hat again, and he walked slowly and deliberately over. He took his hat off and placed it on Shawn's head before turning around, before Shawn could glimpse his face. 

Shawn looked as the man reached back, settled his palms against Shawn's knee and bent, back bowing, rocking up on his tip toes so that Shawn had a really good view of his ass. He moved down and Shawn gave him money, tucking it in to the string, and Kim and Brittany leaned over to do the same as the dancer lowered himself, and rubbed against Shawn. The dancer smelled like something familiar, nothing that he could pick out like Gus could, but something he had smelled before. Musky and masculine, not overpowering just... manly. 

Shawn's toes curled in his shoes and the dancer turned again, kicked at his ankle to spread his legs (like being frisked and Shawn didn't resist at all), and put a knee on the couch between Shawn's legs, and the other next to him, so he was straddling Shawn's leg. His thigh was being straddled and Shawn looked up, even as the dancer pressed a finger to his lips, giving him a warm, seductive smile that... 

Oh, so did not fit. It thrilled him. But without the hat shadowing, Shawn _recognized_... 

That was Lassiter. Why was Lassiter giving him a lap dance? Lassie's eyes were lined, dark kohl-like smudges, something black with a blue base that brought Lassie's robin's egg colored eyes out even more. There was something smudged below the crease, that heightened the grey in them and made them look stormy and smoky. Though that also could have been the flash of anger before Lassiter managed to tamp the feeling down. The dancer, _Lassie_ , ground against Shawn's thigh and moved in close to breath against his ear. 

"What the hell are you doing here, Spencer?" Lassiter growled. _Growled_. In his ear. While humping his leg. Shawn had drank too much. This was probably a hallucination, there had to be something else in those drinks. "Spencer, if you blow my cover, I will shoot you." 

Lassiter moved again, rubbed against Shawn more, another finger to his lips, then he was retrieving his hat, and walking away. And Shawn was so hot for him and holy crap, that was _Lassiter_. Shawn swallowed roughly and downed a glass of water that the ice had melted from. The song ended and Lassie left the stage. Shawn was breathing a little irregularly. 

Michael was rubbing at his back. 

"Kim," Shawn shouted over the noise of the crowd. She turned to look at him, "Does this club have VIP rooms? Where can I get one?" He crawled over Devon's lap to get closer to Kim, who pointed to a man standing over a computer, and he kissed her on the cheek, and then headed over there. Shawn was flushed and he ordered another glass of water. 

"That dancer who was just on," Shawn said, "How much for a VIP room with him?" Shawn asked and he felt breathless. He was quoted a price and Shawn didn't even hesitate. In fact, he even paid for it with his own card. A hostess appeared and led him to one of the rooms, and he waited, trying to calm his nerves down. It was just Lassie. 

He just wanted to know what was going on. And maybe why Lassie had given him a lap dance. Because that was. Shawn didn't think about it... and his heart almost stopped when the door opened, and Lassiter stepped inside. 

Shawn watched him as he scanned the room quickly and his nostrils flared a little. 

"Spencer." Shawn noted that Lassiter did not sound that happy to see him. "I don't know what you're doing here, but you need to leave _now_." Lassiter's voice was firm. Shawn never listened to Lassiter, even when he was doing his intimidating cop voice. It was really quite good, but Shawn had grown up with Henry. 

"Leave?" Shawn repeated and he looked Lassiter over. He was just in the shirt, still unbuttoned, tie looped over his shoulders, and a pair of pants that weren't the ones he'd been wearing on stage. The stitches were wrong, and they probably didn't contain any Velcro. "But Lassie, you were all over me like five minutes ago." 

It was also possible Shawn had had too much to drink. He watched as Lassiter's eyes narrowed and he stalked forward, hands back on the button of his pants. Shawn couldn't help but look. He wondered why Lassiter was taking his pants off again. 

"Look, Spencer," Lassiter's voice had that angry cadence that usually meant Shawn was about to get forcibly removed from one room and yelled at away from prying eyes. That was actually really thoughtful of Lassiter. Of course, he yelled at him in front of people too, but he made it private, like a secret. "You weren't assigned to this case." He drew the tie off his shoulders. 

"I know because you're not supposed to be here, here is dangerous, _here_ is a big crime ring I am going to bring down." Lassiter stalked closer and Shawn noticed he was purposefully keeping his head bowed, probably so the video tape wouldn't show his lips. "And if you blow my cover, and you blow this, I will personally make sure you get brought up on obstruction of justice charges." 

Lassiter moved behind Shawn and twisted his arms back like he was going to cuff him. Instead, he felt smooth silk and then a tight knot securing him to the back of the chair. He moved back in front of Shawn and moved to a panel nearby, picking a song. It was something trance-like, bass heavy and slow and Shawn blinked and tried to focus. Lassiter stood in front of him once more. 

Lassie moved to the beat, back to his hips moving and Shawn was even more amazed now, lips parted slightly. Lassiter shouldn't be able to move like that, he'd never seen the detective so loose before. He strained against the bonds. Lassiter moved forward, achingly slow. 

He put his foot on the chair between Shawn's thighs, tip of his shoe pressing against Shawn's jeans. If he hadn't drank so much, he'd probably be aroused, instead he just flushed and swallowed and Lassiter leaned in, the tails of his shirt brushing against Shawn's bare forearms. 

Not up to his usual quick banter, fuzzy with drink, and this- new knowledge. Who had taught Lassiter to dance like that? 

"Lassie, I will blow anything you want," Shawn said, and he formed a perfect "o" with his mouth and watched Lassiter's eyes go wide for a moment, and then he reached up, and pressed the tip of his index finger in to the circle of Shawn's mouth. Shawn just stared up at him. Lassie was still moving, the shirt tickling Shawn's arms. 

"Spencer, you're drunk, and I'm not going to let you mess things up." Lassie pushed his finger further in to Shawn's mouth, "And you will be leaving as soon as we're done here." Lassiter pulled back and Shawn wanted to touch, and he strained again. Lassiter slid the shirt off, then let the pants fall to the ground. 

Lassiter walked with a strange gait, chest out, head high, and there was something in his walk that made his hips sway. Model like and he paused, posed, ran his hands over his chest and down his thighs. Shawn made a noise, low in his throat. He watched as the dark haired man carded his fingers through his chest hair, and glided over his nipples. 

"I want to touch you," Shawn breathed, so quiet, the music almost swallowed it. If Lassiter was surprised, he hid it well. He moved forward, slowly. 

"No touching, Spencer," Lassie told him, low and warm. The smile was back and Shawn felt like someone was going to have to scrape him off the floor, he was melting. Lassiter posed again, hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his g-string and pulled it away from his hips, down a little, so Shawn had a teasing flash of curling pubic hair. 

He closed the distance and got up in the chair with Shawn. Knees braced on either side of him and he ground down, and Shawn could almost imagine what that would feel like if he was clothed similar to Lassiter. 

"Could have helped," Shawn said. 

"I appreciate it, Spencer, but I've got it." He ground down against Shawn, and Shawn bucked his hips up. Lassiter hissed in a breath and reached up. He ran his fingers through Shawn's hair and leaned in, nosed against his jaw line and his throat, and licked a hot stripe from Shawn's adam's apple to his ear. 

Shawn shivered and Lassiter repeated the action on the other side of his neck. Shawn noticed that Lassiter moved like he was born for this. His hip movements were not forced at all, seductive and erotic. He had the look down pact, the slow sexy smile, and his hair was tousled. And dyed back to be completely black, none of the grey showing. 

Which was mildly disappointing, because Shawn liked the grey. 

Lassiter twisted, turned in the seat to slide his backside down Shawn's chest, over his abdomen, dragging over the seat of his pants. Shawn felt a stirring, but it was a false alarm- a serious case of the mind being willing and the flesh being so, so weak. 

"So, how much is it for a private show?" Shawn asked and he couldn't believe how rough his own voice sounded. Lassiter's brow rose in a familiar way, and he leaned in, mouth almost against Shawn's. He could feel Lassiter breathing. 

"This is a private show," Lassiter replied coyly, dipping his lashes just a little, "You wouldn't be implying that we do something more than this, would you, Spencer? Because you realize, I could bust you for solicitation." 

"Not without blowing your cover," Shawn countered. "And Lassie, speaking of blowing..." 

"Spencer, the only thing you'll be blowing tonight is a breathalyzer. How many drinks have you had?" Lassiter hadn't stopped moving, grinding against Shawn, turning to breath against his skin and tease him in a maddening, not enough type of way. 

"Just a couple," Shawn lied, Lassiter's snort suggested that he knew Shawn was lying. Shawn swallowed hard and Lassiter kept moving, and Shawn realized that Lassiter was sort of enjoying this. He was relaxed, a smile just quirking the edges of his lips, and his loose limb-ness was definitely the result of actually being relaxed as opposed to playing at it. 

Shawn's fingers and toes curled. Lassiter's lips pressed against his as the song ended. He leaned close. 

"Get out of this place, Spencer," Lassiter whispered to him. "I don't want you anywhere near here when this goes down, and if I see you again before this case is over..." 

"You'll arrest me," Shawn finished, not needing Lassie to threaten him again. Lassiter moved behind him and released the binding of the tie. There were red marks on his wrist and he rubbed at them idly, while Lassie showed him the door. 

He rejoined his friends, stayed for one more drink, then they called a cab to take them to the hotel where they were finishing the party out. Devon and Brittany snuck away to break in to the hot tub, while Shawn told them they were breaking the law, and they were lucky he wasn't a cop. 

Shawn wound up in a bed between Kim and Michael, but he quickly extricated himself from that situation. He was smashed and his head was starting to hurt, so he turned in early and fell asleep. In the middle of the night, he woke up to drink water to stave off the impending hangover, and jerked off to the thoughts of glittering Lassie grinding against him.

* * *

Shawn awoke in the middle of the afternoon. His mouth felt like he'd been sucking on cotton balls, his head was pounding, and his stomach felt just a touch queasy. It wasn't as bad as it could have been... if he hadn't remembered to drink the water the night before. He sat up, ran a hand through his hair and stretched. Devon was curled up in the bed next to him, and Kim, Michael, and Brittany were a tangle of limbs, but still clothed, so they'd probably just crashed. Shawn rubbed at the back of his head and stumbled towards the bathroom.

When the others woke up, they decided to go out for brunch, which was quite the affair. Devon made up stories about what he and Shawn had done in bed last night, for the express purpose of making Michael jealous, Shawn was sure. Kim and Brittany discussed the strippers- especially the one that Shawn had bought a lap dance from. But Shawn couldn't talk about it. 

At least he didn't have to tell them exactly what had happened. He glossed over the conversation, but explained the dance in great detail, including being tied up with the dancer's tie. Actually, that still made him flush a little, but whether it was lingering lust, stirred up desire, or flustered at Lassie treating him like that, he was unsure. He didn't tell them about that mess _either_. He definitely couldn't tell them he knew Lassiter. 

The meal they had was delicious and while they ate, Brittany filled him in on what had happened while he'd been getting his VIP room lap dance. He'd only been gone ten minutes at the most, but a lot could have happened during that time. Kim helped to tell the story, and between the two of them, he got that the next stripper that had come out had been this huge, muscle bound wrestling type. But he'd worked the poles like a pro and the two of them described in great detail. 

Devon chimed in some too and Michael had his commentary about a man he'd been scoping out across the room. Shawn wondered if Lassie could do the moves that Brittany and Kim had been describing, and thought about him arching on the pole like that. The flush returned and he sipped at his water. 

They'd all stayed parked at the club, so once they'd settled their breakfast bill, and had gotten some aspirin from Brittany's purse, they took a cab back to the club. Which they were surprised to find surrounded by police cars. The dancers were lined up outside, some of the female beat cops were checking them out.

"Whoa..." Devon said, eyes going wide. Shawn didn't really believe in fate, but if he did, he would have said she was looking out for him today. Because Lassiter was always attractive, but nothing quite matched that look on his face when he was leading a criminal away in cuffs. Shawn was not disappointed. 

The door pushed open and Lassiter walked out, in his detective suit, badge clipped to his hip, and grabbing the chains that linked the handcuffs as he shoved the owner of the club in to the back of a squad car. His hair was still messy and he could see the sparkles from the glitter across his cheekbones, and the eyeliner looked more out of place, but sexier on _Detective_ Lassiter, as opposed to Stripper Lassie. Lassiter's suit jacket was off, the shirt he was wearing was a dark blue, and he could see his shoulder holster, his gun clipped in. Shawn was standing between Kim and Michael when Lassiter turned to address Jules, and spotted Shawn instead. 

"Spencer," Lassiter snapped, and he stalked over. But that predatory gait had a whole new meaning in Shawn's mind too, "What did I tell you? What did I say?" His words had the cadence and tone the same as one would address a small child in. Kim and Brittany both exchanged a look. Shawn wondered if they recognized him. It was possible, but not probable. Not that he'd take those odds. 

"Lassie, I just saw you put the man in a car, clearly your case is over now." Shawn's mental faculties were a bit better prepared now, only a little foggy from the remnants of a hangover. "You never said it had to be hours, or days after it was over, just when it was." 

"Shawn, what're you doing here?" Juliet asked, joining Lassiter near Shawn. Shawn smiled at Juliet. 

"Lassie said I could come around when the case was over." That was paraphrasing and the annoyed look in Lassiter's eyes was totally worth it. Shawn smiled. 

"That isn't what I said, Spencer," Lassiter snarled and Shawn shrugged. 

" _Carpe diem_ ," Shawn replied. Lassiter gave him a look. "It's French, it means 'such is life'." 

"It's Latin and it means 'Seize the Day', you mean _c'est la vie_ ," Lassiter corrected, the annoyance leaking in to his voice. Shawn paused for a moment.

"I've heard it both ways." Lassiter rolled his eyes at him and shook his head. 

"Get the hell out of here, Spencer," Lassiter growled. And that was _memories_ , right to the forefront. He couldn't stop the flush, but at least it was faint, or at least he hoped it was since he wasn't growing too warm. He still wasn't intimidated by Lassiter's cop voice. 

"I would love to get the hell out of here, Lassie, I promised Gus I'd be in the office in the morning, and it's already way past lunch time. But right now, I can't. Your police cruisers are blocking us in. We were responsible last night and didn't drink and drive," Shawn said. He was trying to pretend like nothing had changed. Lassiter wasn't acting any different, but Shawn tended to feel things for people who had been rubbing against him. 

And honestly, it felt a bit like last night was just another one of their usual fights. Except this time Shawn had been restrained, and Lassie had been rubbing his barely clothed dick on him. Okay, so maybe not the same at all. Lassiter was scowling at him again. 

"Shawn, you shouldn't talk to the police that way," Brittany said. Juliet looked between Brittany and Shawn, while Lassiter headed over to where the cruisers were parked, leaning in to the window to tell the officer whatever it was he was telling them. Shawn, quite happily, watched the stretch of Lassiter's pants over his ass. Now that he knew what his ass looked naked it was hard to not imagine it beneath his clothing. 

"It's fine, it's just Lassie," Shawn said. Juliet rolled her eyes. 

"Shawn works with the department, sometimes," Juliet told Brittany, "He and Detective Lassiter have solved quite a few cases together. He's just being... Shawn." Juliet pursed her lips and Kim nodded in agreement, turning to Brittany also. 

"He can be like that," Kim agreed. 

"Oh, be nice," Michael said, slinging his arm over Shawn's shoulder. Juliet smiled at them and Shawn watched as Lassiter straightened and bent again to address the second cruiser. Juliet must have noticed him staring, because she glanced over at Lassiter. Juliet suddenly covered her mouth.

"You were at the club last night," Juliet said, her voice sounding amused, and maybe a little worried. Shawn nodded a little. 

"Yes, we were," Kim said, "For my birthday party. Shawn got a lap dance." Kim grinned and Shawn smiled too, but he could see the gears in Jules' head working. 

"Oh my god," Juliet whispered and Shawn grinned even wider. "You didn't..." Shawn knew that Kim didn't know that Lassie had been the dancer he was with. He also didn't expect her to keep talking, so he didn't think about cutting her off. 

"Then he paid for a private lap dance," Kim said, which caused Michael to frown, and Juliet's eyes to go very wide. Lassiter got both cars out of the way and moved back over to the group. Juliet was staring at Lassiter now and Shawn was still smiling. 

"Alright, Spencer, out," Lassiter demanded, pointing in to the direction of his bike. Shawn scoffed and pushed passed him and Juliet. Kim and the others followed, and they made plans to meet up again. Shawn gave hugs, and kisses on the cheek, and then was mounting his bike to head back to the Psych office. 

Gus wasn't there, probably out on his route, so Shawn started paging through one of the private cases they had. The case probably wouldn't be too difficult to solve, in fact, Shawn already had a pretty good idea of what had happened. The woman thought she had a poltergeist, because things would be moved, food would be eaten, and she would wake up covered in bumps and bruises. 

She'd told him that the attacks had started recently, which was distressing, because she'd just started getting help for her insomnia. Her doctor had put her on Zolpidem and a quick phone call to Gus had pretty much sealed it. Gus had told him that Zolpidem had a slight chance of causing sleepwalking, binge eating, and performing other tasks while being asleep. Shawn would have to somehow use the spirit world to get her to tell her doctor about it, instead of a psychic, which would likely get her taken off the drug. 

It was close to quitting time, all Shawn had left to do was call his client and let her know that she needed to talk to her doctor, not a psychic. He made a story up about how the spirits near her house (since her apartment complex was close to a graveyard) had assured him that none of their brethren were in her house, and it was probably something to do with the new medications she'd been taking. She promised to go and Shawn made a note to call her the following day. 

Shawn patted himself on the back for a job well done. He stood to go turn off the lights in the front of the office and lock the door, but before he reached the door, someone else came in. Shawn wanted to complain and whine. 

"We're closed, come back tomorrow," Shawn said, fumbling for the light switch. He clicked off the lights in the front office, but the figure moved in to the back office, closing the door, and Shawn heard the lock click. He jumped backwards and grabbed... the only weapon like thing he had was a tennis racket. He gripped it in both hands and crouched behind his desk. 

"Spencer, I know you're here," Lassiter's voice was annoyed again. Shawn frowned and peeked his head up over his desk. 

"Lassie?" He was genuinely confused and he rose slowly, and tossed the tennis racket over his shoulder. It bounced off the window and clattered to the floor. "What're you doing here?" 

"Sit," Lassiter ordered and Shawn found himself following, dropping in to the chair at his desk. Lassiter moved over and sat at the edge of Gus' desk, looking at Shawn rather intently. His jaw was tight and he didn't seem very relaxed at all. Shawn felt nervous, but he was sure Lassiter wasn't here to kill him, though he was sort of regretting dropping the tennis racket now. 

Silence reigned between the two of them, though with the way Lassiter's mouth kept moving, Shawn figured he was trying to think of how exactly he was going to word what he said. Shawn stood and moved around his desk, standing across from Lassiter. 

"Come on, Lassie," Shawn prompted after a moment, "Can we hurry this up? I don't want to miss 'The Mentalist'." Shawn sighed and Lassiter frowned. He wasn't exactly looking at Shawn which was slightly annoying, but Shawn wasn't going to complain about that right now. 

"Spencer, I just wanted you to know, about last night," Lassiter finally said, he raised his hands, palms forward, "I realize that whatever happened after we initially met up was probably just some ridiculous joke that you were trying to play, but it doesn't change the fact that I was working a case. I don't want you to think anything untoward because of my behavior, the room had a camera in it, and I had to keep my cover intact so that we could bring down the crime ring operating out of that club." Shawn frowned a little. 

"I understand that it may have made you uncomfortable and I wanted you to know that there wasn't any sort of... reasoning behind what happened except, for that night, I was just doing my job." Lassiter dug a hand in to his pocket and pulled out some money, neatly folded in a clip. He tossed it to Shawn. 

"That's all you and your friends gave me last night, plus what you spent on the private room," Lassiter said, then he nodded a little. "So, I'll let you get to your television. Have a good night, Spencer." Lassiter pushed himself off the desk and headed for the door. 

"Lassie, wait," Shawn said. The detective paused and Shawn fiddled with the clip and the money. When Lassiter turned back around, Shawn tossed it back. "Listen, Lassie, you deserve that. You did a very good job." The annoyance was back and Shawn held both his hands up, and then shoved them into his pockets. 

"Keep it, I know it has to be rough keeping up with your apartment and groceries on half a public servant's salary." Shawn grinned and he watched the annoyance grow and figured maybe he ought to stop pushing so much. But really, he didn't know how to do that, and besides, Lassie's buttons were too fun to press. 

"I don't pay my ex-wife alimony, Spencer," Lassiter told him calmly, and he set the clip down on Gus' desk, "And I make more money than you do. I _am_ head detective." Shawn gave him a wary look. 

"California has alimony awarded on a case-by-case basis. Victoria was more than capable of supporting herself, she did the entire time we were separated. Our divorce was quite amicable, she didn't demand anything, and we just... let it lie." He shook his head then. "But I didn't come to talk about that, Spencer. Keep your money, I'm sorry if any of this is discomforting for you, I'm going to leave now." Lassiter gave him a half smile and headed for the door. 

He made it to the darkened foyer before Shawn caught up with him and grabbed his wrist. 

"Lassie-"

"Spencer, let me go." 

"Wait, just one moment, turn around." Shawn's heart was beating so fast. This was such a stupid risk. Lassiter did turn, though, Shawn could hear him do it. He leaned forward, stood on his tip toes and threw his arms around Lassiter's neck, and then kissed him. Wet and a little messy, Shawn missed the mark some and started kissing the side of his mouth and on his cheek before he corrected and got to the center of his lips. 

Shawn was panting when he pulled back. Lassiter was stiff; Shawn could feel the tension in his shoulders. He wished Lassiter was relaxed like he had been the night before. Lassie's hands were on his shoulders, pushing him away a little. Shawn put his heels back against the ground. 

"Listen, Spencer, whatever you think you're feeling, you're not," Lassiter told him quietly, "You were drunk last night, you're just projecting, because you've recently broken up, and I showed you attention. But it was... just work." 

"No, you've got it all wrong, Lassie," Shawn interrupted, he could feel Lassiter looking at him, "Look, I _was_ drunk. But I wouldn't have... you know..." He trailed off and frowned. His toes curled in his shoes and he was _so_ stupid. 

"I wouldn't have paid for the VIP room if I didn't think you were worth it," Shawn added quietly. He moved his arm down Lassiter's arm, closing his fingers around his wrist. Lassiter was still too tense and Shawn tried to pull him along back into the office. 

"Personally, I want to finish what we started," Shawn told him, low and quiet. He guided Lassiter to the couch and shoved him down, then crawled on top of him before Lassiter could think about getting up. Still not relaxed, but definitely interested. 

"I was hot for you the moment you stepped on to that stage," Shawn whispered, "All I wanted to do was touch you. And when I realized it was _you_ , and not just some random guy, do you know how much I..." Shawn took a steadying breath. Lassiter was staring up at him with wide, confused eyes. 

"The glitter and you were working it, it should be illegal for your hips to move like that, by the way. And I wanted... god, I wanted to wash you off and touch what you were hiding." That sounded filthier out loud than it had in his head. He'd meant whatever the makeup had been covering up, but it could be taken either way. He shifted, straddled Lassiter's hips. And fuck, it didn't seem like Lassiter was exactly opposed... unless that was an extra sidearm in his pocket. 

Shawn slid his hands up over Lassiter's chest and planted his hands there, then dipped them under his suit jacket, fingers tracing against the leather of the holster. Lassiter's eyes were getting a little heavy and he was so quiet, breathing quickened, and stirring. Shawn was hard already with just the feeling of Lassiter between his legs. He took a steadying breath. 

He leaned in to kiss Lassiter again and this time there wasn't resistance, he was being kissed back, and he could feel Lassiter's hands on his hips. The cotton of his t-shirt was doing nothing to mask the heat in the detective's hands and Shawn shivered a little and kissed him harder, biting lightly at his lower lip. He pulled back after a moment. 

"Seeing you dance... I mean, it's not that I... I've practically been throwing myself at you and..." 

"Spencer," Lassiter said, voice quiet, but it cut through, "Just be quiet." Lassiter slipped his fingers under Shawn's shirt, calloused fingertips, gliding across his skin. Shawn bit his lower lip to keep from talking, because he just thought aloud and he talked a lot. Especially when he was feeling nervous and despite his considerable experience with having sex and being sure he wanted to do this with Lassiter, well. 

Shawn kind of shifted his hips and Lassiter made a low sound in the back of his throat, and Shawn was hard, and Lassiter was too and he rubbed against him. Even through clothing, it felt fantastic, and Shawn put his head down on Lassiter's shoulder and rolled his hips against him. He bit down against Lassiter's shoulder, cloth in his mouth, and he could feel the leather, and the warmth of Lassiter's body beneath his clothing. 

"Take this off," Shawn demanded, tugging at Lassiter's suit jacket. He rose up a little and worked it off, while Shawn started working on the buttons of his dress shirt. As soon as he got the top buttons undone, he pushed his shirt out of the way and ducked his head down, applying teeth and tongue to one of Lassiter's nipples. He hissed in a breath and bucked his hips up, Shawn bit down lightly, and Lassiter's fingers curled back on to his hips, tight. 

The next few moments was a tangle of getting clothes off, stretching and shifting so Lassiter could pull Shawn's shirt off, Shawn could unbutton Lassiter's shirt the rest of the way. He didn't take it off, just pushed it to the side, and left the holster on. The gun was still there too and Shawn rested his fingers along the butt of it, and leaned in and kissed Lassiter again. Lassiter seemed more interesting in getting Shawn's pants off, fingers working on the button and zipper. It didn't take Lassiter long. Shawn wasn't resisting at all. 

He pulled his pants down, Shawn wiggled atop him, and they got stuck when they got to his shoes. But neither man seemed to care about that too much. Shawn pulled back, lifted up, and started to undo the buttons on Lassiter's slacks. He lifted his hips and Shawn worked his pants down just to the knees, and groaned loudly when they pressed together once more. 

Shawn gave Lassiter another messy kiss, trailing down to the detective's nipples, and rubbing against him, and really they could use something to ease the passage of this. Lasstier was panting, the flush tracing from the tips of his ears, down his neck, and high on his cheeks. Even and prominent against his pale skin. Shawn bit down on Lassiter's lower lip and pressed himself closer, moving his hand. He felt under the couch cushion and grabbed the bottle of lubricant that he had stashed under there.

One of Lassiter's brows rose and Shawn shrugged. 

"Be prepared," Shawn murmured, and he smeared the lube against his fingers. Lassiter shook his head and rolled his eyes. Shawn then started to slick them both up and that effectively stopped anything Lassiter had been about to say. He set the lube down next to Lassiter and leaned back in. The next time he thrust his hips against Lassiter's, it was better. The friction was almost perfect, and Lassiter threw his head back and swallowed, Shawn watched his throat work. 

Shawn leaned in and started to kiss Lassiter's neck, lips resting over his pulse point. He could feel Lassiter's heart, beating quick, and his breathing was labored. And yeah, Shawn didn't blame him at all because this felt fantastic. Shawn had been without a lot of people, no denying that, but there was something about this that was just... different. It wasn't because he was a man, but because he was _Lassiter_. Somehow, that changed everything. 

Shawn pressed his face against Lassiter's neck and he was breathing heavy, ragged pants of breath as he kept hitching his hips against Lassiter's, rubbing their dicks together. Shawn felt like he was burning up, and the steady roll of Lassiter's hips was intoxicating. _Those hips,_ Shawn decided, _should come with a warning label._

He wasn't watching, Shawn was just feeling, losing himself in the sensations. One of Lassiter's arms was around his back, fingers curling against his rib cage, and Shawn suddenly felt the other, cool and slick, sliding between his cheeks. Shawn thought he'd be nervous, but instead, he just canted his hips a little and tried to get Lassiter to press closer. 

Lassiter shifted his legs, pushed Shawn forward, so that Shawn was now rubbing against the planes of Lassiter's stomach, and the detective's fingers had an easier path between his cheeks. Shawn gasped quietly against Lassiter's neck as he rubbed against the tight ring of muscle at Shawn's entrance. His eyes were closed, and he was slick with sweat. 

Despite himself, Shawn cried out when Lassiter's finger pressed inside of him. He'd noticed at the club, and before, Lassiter's hands. They were pale, narrow, and long, with fingers to match. He had the hands of a piano player, or a flautist, nimble too. (He could tell by the way he undid his buttons.) And Lassiter's fingers were long, still, and also very clever. Shawn felt the way Lassie's finger crooked, the rub against his prostate. 

Shawn bucked, and rubbed himself frantically against Lassiter's stomach, and he could feel Lassiter's dick twitching against him, thrusting against his balls and perineum, and reaching the resistance of his own finger, which was pressed inside of Shawn. It was... dirty and quick and frantic. Shawn was making noises that were increasing in volume, and that doubled when Lassiter added a second finger. 

Inside, Shawn could feel Lassiter's fingers, pressing deep, rolling slightly like they were laying down ink, and then crooking again. Seeking, questing, and Lassiter found his mark with unerring accuracy. At the first rub of calloused fingertips along his prostate, Shawn shouted and thrust harder and faster. 

Lassiter's stomach had a trail of hair, and Shawn was spreading precome all along it, sometimes accidentally thrusting against Lassiter's navel, pushing back against his fingers, then forward, dragging his cock along Lassiter's abdomen. He wasn't shutting up either, the noises getting louder and louder, the closer he got. 

Especially with the way Lassiter felt rubbing against him, thrusting against him as best he could, still with exquisite friction. Shawn threw his head back, and tried to listen to Lassie over the sound of his own noises. Lassiter was quieter, though, moaning and making noise, but low in his throat, almost subvocal. Shawn sat up a little, pressing himself more firmly against Lassiter's fingers. 

He planted one hand firmly in the center of Lassiter's chest, fingers curling in to his chest hair, and then wrapped his other hand around both of their erections. He thrusted and stroked, while Lassiter pushed his hips up into the circle of Shawn's fingers. Lassiter's fingers didn't stop moving inside of him, scissoring slightly, and stroking at Shawn's prostate. 

A particular hard press and good thrust, and Shawn was coming, shouting out Lassiter's name, and it was dizzying and almost painful, he was certain he saw stars. Lassiter wasn't far behind, though his fingers didn't stop moving inside of Shawn until Lassiter was spent too. 

They laid there, sweating and panting, a mess on Lassiter's stomach, and Shawn back to pressing his face against Lassiter's neck, for several long, heart pounding, panting moments. Shawn listened as their breathing calmed down and he expected panic, maybe Lassiter shoving him away and going running. Shawn yawned against his neck. 

"Tired, Spencer?" Lassiter asked and Shawn grumbled in some sort of agreement. Shawn looked up in time to see Lassiter quirk a small smile. He sat up then, withdrew his fingers, and moved Shawn off him. He ran a hand through his dark hair and Shawn smiled dopily at him, still a little sleepy. 

"You keep lube under your couch?" Lassiter inquired. Shawn grinned, pulling his pants up and putting his shirt back on. It was messy, but he had a change of clothes, as soon as Lassiter left. 

"You aren't complaining," Shawn said with a smile and Lassiter nodded in agreement. Lassiter straightened his clothing out and looked distinctly uncomfortable. He did the buttons up on his shirt and then nodded to Shawn. 

"I have an idea," Lassiter said, and Shawn had this horrible feeling it was going to be a warning like 'we'll never discuss this again'. Shawn waited for Lassiter to say something like that, feeling oddly anxious, even though he knew that he was the one who was generally craving scenarios just like this. One night stands were sort of his deal. 

"What's that?" Shawn asked, moving to his desk to pull out his spare outfit, smoothing out the jeans with... well, not any real desire to smooth them out. It wasn't like he was averse to being rumpled, but with Lassiter right there he felt like he should at least make an effort. 

"I'm going to go home and change. Maybe take a shower," Lassiter said and Shawn waited for it, "Then I thought that maybe we went about this the wrong way." Shawn stared down at the jeans and tried not to scowl. This was what Shawn was good at, casual, not relationships. He didn't want to have a relationship with Lassiter. 

"I get it, it was a mistake, you were feeling guilty because I clearly needed attention. Now that you've done your good deed you can go home," Shawn sounded a little more bitter than he'd intended, but at least he'd managed to not add 'and go fuck yourself' to the end of that sentence. 

He was more than a little surprised when Lassiter gave him a confused look. A crease formed between Lassiter's brow, and his eyes narrowed a bit. He studied Shawn with a thoughtful intensity that honestly caused a shiver to trace down his spine since he wasn't really sure why he was being looked at like that. 

"That wasn't what I was going to say," Lassiter protested after a moment, "If that's what you... want I... no, I don't get it, if that's what you want. But what I was going to say was, that I thought... we skipped a few steps and I was wondering if you uh..." Lassiter trailed off and the tips of his ears went pink. 

Now it was Shawn's turn to be confused. 

"If I...?" Shawn prompted. The flush darkened. 

"Well, I thought, there's this... diner and we could..." Lassiter seemed to be having trouble finishing this sentence. Shawn frowned. 

"Yes?" 

"Maybe you and I could go... on a... date." Shawn stared at Lassiter for several long moments. The flush didn't fade, but Lassiter suddenly looked away, biting his lower lip and turning towards the door. "Well, good night, Spencer." 

"Call me, Shawn," Shawn said as he headed towards the door. "And Carlton?" Lassiter turned around. 

"When you're done changing and showering and not necessarily in that order. Actually, preferably not in that order." Shawn smiled when he met Lassiter's gaze again, "I'd love to go on a date with you." Shawn smiled wider and Lassiter returned it. 

"Okay, Spen- _Shawn_ , don't leave, I'll be back in an hour," Lassiter promised and Shawn grinned. 

"I look forward to it." Shawn watched Lassiter has he walked out the door and then he slumped down on to the couch. He grabbed his phone and texted Gus. 

_That was the best birthday ever, man, I'm sad you missed it. You should see the sexy, sexy person I got to come home with me._ Shawn sent him and then grinned. Not waiting for a response, he then texted Gus a candid picture he'd snapped of Lassiter up on the stage. 

Shawn headed in to the bathroom to get freshened up and changed and amended the thought in his head. It was probably the best day ever in general.


End file.
